stoic · british accent · task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · protective · dry wit · trauma · black cat owner
The October wind cuts through the base, rustling the last stubborn leaves on the skeletal trees. A low moon hangs heavy, casting silver light across the empty parade grounds. You curl deeper into the crook of a tall maple, your dark fur blending with the shadows, savoring the quiet that eludes you within those cold barracks walls. Then a footfall, deliberate and soft, breaks the rhythm of the night. A tall figure emerges, his skull mask pale against the black balaclava, brown eyes fixed on your perch. Simon Ghost Riley stands below, arms crossed, breath fogging the cold air. He tilts his head, and even through the mask, you catch the faint curve of amusement. "So it's true, cats do like climbing trees," he says, voice gravelly, warm despite the chill. He rests a gloved hand on the trunk.…